Three Perfect Days

by Linda Pastan

In the middle seat of an airplane,
between an overweight woman
whose arm takes over the armrest
and a man immersed in his computer game,

I am reading the inflight magazine
about three perfect days somewhere: Kyoto
this time, but it could be anywhere—
Madagascar or one of the Virgin Islands.

There is always the perfect hotel
where at breakfast the waiter smiles
as he serves an egg as perfectly coddled
as a Spanish Infanta.

There are walks over perfect bridges—their spans
defying physics—and visits to zoos
where rain is forbidden,
and no small child is ever bored or crying.

I would settle now for just one perfect day
anywhere at all, a day without
mosquitoes, or traffic, or newspapers
with their headlines.

A day without any kind of turbulence—
certainly not this kind, as the pilot tells us
to fasten our seatbelts, and even
the flight attendants look nervous.


  1. I'm ready, but prefer a beach somewhere.

  2. Hey there!

    I just got off that plane. How funny that you should notice.

    I have a policy of never, ever telling anyone where I found those 3 perfect days. They never sound right in words...


  3. Oh, I love Linda Pastan! Thank you for sharing this one (photo is soothing, too--is it a hint?).

  4. With the countdown to Groundhog's Day I feel the need of a mental pick-me-up to keep sloshing through the cold and gray days!!
    ds--I wish that were a hint. With carpools and school deadlines my vacation plans are in books and magazine ads :>)

  5. Yes, just one perfect day would do just fine. Hold the headlines, two eggs over easy on whole wheat toast... for starters...


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